Star Trek : Valiant
by Stephen R Sobotka
Summary: Starfleet has a Mission to return to a previously-reached sector of Space. To do so, requires the construction of a new starship, and the assignment of a new commanding officer. Russell Ridley, finds himself promoted and assigned to 'kit out' his new command, before heading off into the "unknown" yet-known parts of deep space. Will he be able to complete the mission? OCs; full cast
1. Prologue

**STAR TREK : VALIANT**

**a story by Stephen R. Sobotka - 2016/2018**

**Disclaimer!** \- This is a fan-fiction, based on characters and situations from the Paramount/DeSilu TV series "**Star Trek**"; created by **Gene Roddenberry**. _This has been written solely for other fans of the franchise to enjoy, not to gain profit for the author. All characters, with exception of any that I have I created for these stories, are TM and Copyrighted by the original creator & Paramount, and are used without their knowledge._

_Please don't sue, since this was done as a tribute to the spirit of the original show and subsequent series._

.  
**Author's Note** : This story started out as a "labor of love" for the entire Star Trek franchise. It's not intended to be a replacement _for any one series. It grew out of a short discussion I had with a dear friend - _**Penmouse**_ here in - and grew into this telling of how I'd do a Star Trek story. There's going to be a few appearences by some familiar characters, and some surprises around the corner too. So, just sit back, strap in and enjoy the ride folks!_

_A personal thank-you to the late Mr. Roddenberry. Thank you for giving us a vast universe to play in. - SRS_

.  
.

_**Prologue**_

# # # #

**Offices of Starfleet Ship Requisition,  
Division of Advanced Starship Design (BuShips);  
****Starfleet HQ, San Francisco, Earth...  
**.

.  
Ensign Brooke rapped on the door frame, clearing her throat at the same time as she spoke to the smartly-dressed woman in the office suite. "Admiral Janeway?"

Looking up from her terminal, Vice Admiral Kathryn Janeway acknowledged the blonde junior officer with a nod. "Yes, Ensign?"

"You have a Commander Ridley, waiting outside, Ma'am. Shall I-?"

Janeway nodded with a small smile, gesturing to the door. "Yes, by all means, show them in."

The ensign turned and left the doorway, returning a second later to usher in a middle-aged, rugged looking man in the red-over-black uniform of a Starfleet Commander. The man gave a short nod in thanks to Ensign Brooke as the junior officer turned to leave them. Facing Janeway, he paused and unconsciously straightened his dress tunic. "Admiral Janeway," he said, "Commander Russell Ridley, reporting as ordered, ma'am."

"At ease, Mister Ridley." Janeway said, rising to greet him. She rose and stepped around her desk, moving to take his hand firmly in welcome. "We're not exactly on standing protocol, this morning."

"I thought we did that at the Go'dile function?" Ridley asked.

"At the Go'dile Function . . . well, that was part of the 'official' side of things," Janeway said as they released their hands. "However, I also like to do an informal meeting when I meet with new officers. Gives them a chance to be themselves, without feeling any 'official' pressure with all the fol-de-rol." She gestured for him to sit and moved to take her place back behind her desk.

"Color me surprised, Admiral," Ridley said as he sat down. "I mean, I wasn't expecting this . . . your summons only arrived last night. I had to explain to Captain Parks and she was very accommodating, fortunately."

"If there's one thing about Theresa Parks," Janeway said with a grin, "is that she always finds it best to accommodate us here at BuShips. I believe she feels it will grease the wheels, so to speak when she's up for her next command." She leaned back into her seat and stared back at Ridley for a moment. "But, I didn't ask you to come by to speak about your C.O., Commander."

"Oh?" Ridley tipped his head to the side, fixing his superior with a frank look. "I get the feeling that there's more to this meeting than just chewing the fat, if you'll forgive my old-school sensibilities?"

"Blunt as a shovel . . . though I like that, Commander." Janeway drummed her fingers against her desk, before she said, "I've read up on your record, Mister Ridley. I'm rather impressed. What with your work on Bajor, following the end of the Dominion War. Your past commanders and literally every officer I've interviewed say your an exemplar of Starfleet; a paragon of what we expect from any who serve." She smiled as she added, "Including your current turn as executive officer aboard the _Ganymede_."

"I did the best I could, ma'am," Ridley replied. "Nothing more than any other officer would have done."

"Yes, but those reports show you've never hid from your duty, nor have you shied away from stating you'd like to serve Starfleet in a greater capacity, other than just another First Officer."

The russet-haired Commander nodded firmly. "Exploration's been the primary reason for my joining Starfleet, Admiral. I mean . . . I'll do any tramp-job or shuttle run from here to the Neutral Zone, to Bajor and back! Yet, I'm keen to get under a posting to get out there." He jabbed a finger upwards. "There, in the unexplored parts of the quadrants we haven't begun to know about yet."

Janeway pursed her lips, then went on to say, "If that's what your anxious to do, then I say it might just be what we're looking for. In particular, for a mission that's come up in the past couple of weeks that Starfleet needs done." She arched one eyebrow. "Interested?"

Ridley grinned, though there was a note of caution in his expression. "What exactly is the mission, Ma'am?"

Janeway asked, "Are you familiar with the Thirty-Sevens, Mister Ridley?"

Ridley blinked, but his eyes appeared to be searching for the reference in his memory. "They are, ah . . . I believe, displaced humans from Earth. Late Twentieth Century?" As Janeway nodded, he recalled another relevant point: "They were one of the discoveries you and your crew on _Voyager_ made, while still in the Delta Quadrant."

Janeway smiled at the mention of her former command. "Ah yes. Memories." She turned and regarded a display of an older starship - etched in brass, on a plaque - on the wall nearby. "We'd discovered an L-class planet in a star system, which we found after locating an ancient Earth vehicle in deep space. That planet had been used as a colony by an alien race, the Briori. They'd traveled to Earth some time in the distance past, and captured humans to use as slave labor." She rose and paced for a bit, continuing: "At some point, the slaves had revolted against their Briori masters, and drove them off-world. They then began making the planet their own home."

Ridley nodded, saying, "That much I remember, from reading your official reports, Ma'am."

Janeway turned back to look at Ridley, saying, "Then you know that, at last contact with the humans there, they'd been thriving; with three major cities, housing over one-hundred thousand humans." She shrugged. "Not a lot, compared to what Earth's current population levels are . . . yet, recently, we've had some concerns on whether or not those people are still alive." Continuing to pace behind her desk, she said, "As much as we'd like to believe that nothing significant in nature has happened since Voyager's departure from the Delta Quadrant, Starfleet Command has determined it is high time we return to re-establish contact with them."

Ridley nodded. "So, I'm to believe Starfleet wants to form up a crew to make the journey, back to this system in the Delta Quadrant?" He pursed his lips and sighed. "Wow!"

"Indeed. Considering the lengths we took to return Voyager home," Janeway said. "Still, I have my orders. I've already begun to search for suitable officers to head up the command staff for this mission." She faced Ridley squarely and added, "As such, I've been tasked with choosing someone to lead the mission. I'd like you to be the one, Commander."

Ridley started, then calmed himself. "That's a . . . tall order of a mission, even for a Commander to undertake, Admiral. Are you certain you want me for the job?"

"Quite frankly, Mister Ridley, you're the only one that comes close to the required experience, time in rate, and - after meeting you the first time - I'd say you have the right temperament necessary for such a mission." Janeway nodded slightly at the surprise in Ridley's face. "I will agree with you that a Commander might be, well . . . unsuited for a mission that requires a starship captain. That's why, effective immediately, you're to be promoted. That is, if you'll accept the mission?"

Ridley reeled a bit, but quickly got himself back together. "Promoted? To Captain?!" He snorted. "Admiral, I . . . of course, I accept!"

"Don't be too quick, Commander," Janeway cautioned. "Should you attempt this mission, it will require a lot from both captain and crew. As you might well recall from my reports and logs, there are many dangers in the Delta Quadrant . . . and a few alien species that won't view humans - or Starfleet - in a favorable way."

Ridley nodded slowly, then he squared himself and said, "Admiral, I can tell you this much. Any of us that sign up to serve . . . we know all the risks involved when we 'boldly go' out there. Even in the space we do know, much less what we don't know." He tipped his head again, added, "You wouldn't have offered me this mission, if you knew I wasn't going to accept it anyway."

With a half-smirk, Janeway said, "Well, I didn't want to hedge my bets, as it were."

"As a great-many-times ancestor of mine was quoted as saying . . . mule muffins, Ma'am." Ridley grinned. "Besides, if you think I'm qualified, then who am I to argue."

"Then you'll accept the mission, Commander?"

"So long as the promotion goes with it, and a promise to continue the job of exploration when we get back?"

With a smile of her own, Janeway stepped back around to stand next to Ridley's seat. "In that case, I'd say some congratulations are in order . . . Captain Ridley." She offered him her hand, and he rose and took it, shaking it firmly.

"Aye, Ma'am. And thank you for the opportunity to serve Starfleet further!"

They let go once more, and Janeway said, "Don't thank me just yet, Captain. You may wish you hadn't accepted, after you learn a few more details about it." She turned and keyed a command sequence in a view screen, which revealed a star-map with a highlighted system. "For starters, there's the small matter of getting you and your new crew to the intended destination."

Ridley joined her, standing at her side to stare down at the display. "Agreed. I presume I'll be getting one of our best ships to start with?"

Janeway said, "Oh even better, Captain Ridley. As it stands, the starship keel for our latest _Intrepid_-class was just laid a month ago. It's currently at our shipyards on Mars, undergoing construction." She looked at him and said, "It's not every day a newly-minted Captain gets to be a keel plate owner as well, hm?"

Ridley was agog for a moment, then he shook his head slowly, "A brand-new starship?"

"Unless you'd prefer something a bit older? I presume we might find you an _Excelsior_-class ship, just waiting to get out of surplus?" Janeway asked, though she clearly meant it in jest.

"Ma'am, give me a bucket with wings on it," Ridley said, "and I'll fly it to the Crab Nebula and back if I have to."

"Well, we won't have to ask that of you . . . yet." Janeway added, "Back to the matter at hand. You'll be scheduled to arrive at Utopia Station One in six weeks, Captain. Until then, you'll be detached from your current duty station and reassigned here, so you can learn about your mission parameters and ship's systems before heading out to finalize her commissioning."

Ridley whistled low. "Considering what that's going to do to Captain Parks . . . well, You don't do things by halves, do you Admiral?"

"Not when I expect results," Janeway said. "My superiors, either. Which is why I think you'll find a few things about your new ship to be . . . rather fascinating, Captain. Particularly where her propulsion systems are concerned." She tapped a key, and the display changed to reveal a wire frame of a graceful-looking starship, with part of the ship's propulsion system highlighted. "Do I have your attention now, Captain Ridley?"

At that, Ridley met her gaze and nodded, smiling. "Just show me what this beauty's got going for her . . . ."

.  
.

**Three Days Later, at Azure Nova Restaurant;  
****Space Station One, in Orbit above Earth...  
**.

.  
The Matre'd looked up as the doors opened to admit a svelte-figured woman in blue-on-white, casual evening wear, stepping in from the "night time" hustle outside. With a nod to the waitress on station, she moved to greet the arrival with a smile. "Welcome, Ma'am. Are you expected or do you have a reservation?"

With a smile, Patricia Ridley-Jones replied, "I'm here to meet with someone, and he should have a reservation already." She turned her head, making the long, brown braid draped over her shoulder move against the short-wasted jacket she wore. "His name is Commander Ridley, and he should have arrived by now?"

The Matre'd turned to regard a readout on her podium briefly, before nodding to her. "We do indeed have a reservation for a . . . Commander Ridley. Please," she said, indicating for the Patricia to follow. "He's been seated in our Sky Veranda section."

Following behind, Patricia took in the stately decor and atmosphere of the place. Patrons were seated under warm, overhead lighting while they dined; complete with tasteful linens and comfortable seating through out the room. The staff were silent, but brisk and very at ease among their clientele. Eventually, the Matre'd climbed a short stairway to an open, skybox-style area that had a spectacular, space-view through a massive view port. Only a few tables dotted the curved space, which were mostly occupied by multiple parties of guests.

Save one, who held a single occupant waiting; wearing a sharp, Starfleet dress uniform.

As they approached, Patricia broke into a smile as the man rose and held out his arms in an expansive gesture. "Hey, Little Sister!"

"Hey, Russ!" she said warmly. Her mid-length skirt made her steps mince, but she all but flew across the last few meters of space to throw her arms around her older brother; squeezing him tight in a filial embrace.

Russell Ridley growled in a playful manner as he hugged her back, before stepping back to hold Patricia at arms length. "God, it's good to see you again! Glad to see you made it," he said.

"Well, you're hardly ever planet-side these days," Patricia said archly, reaching out to give his left shoulder a swat. "I mean, honestly, Russ! Doesn't Starfleet give you any time off?!".

"Ow," Russell playfully groaned, before he made a flicking motion next to her ear; an old, playful gaffe he used to do, when the two of them were younger. "Well, I'm here now, aren't I?". He let her go and stepped back to pull out a seat for her at the table.

"Oh, still trying to use that old trick, Russ?" She snorted softly, before taking her seat with exaggerated grace.

"Always worked when you tried to wrestle me when we were kids," he replied with a grin. "Though, times have changed, haven't they?" He stepped around to his seat, making a small adjustment to his uniform collar.

Patricia didn't miss the gesture, and she made a soft sound of approval. "Yes, and they've changed clearly for the better, if that's what I think it is." She pointed at his collar.

Russell grinned all the more as he gestured to his new rank pips. "You're not wrong, Sis." Seating himself, he said, "Your older brother made Captain, Tish."

"Wow, so this is going to be a celebratory dinner, I wager?" Patricia stated.

"Well, there's that," Russell said. "Though it's mostly it's a going-away dinner as well." He paused as a waitress arrived and handed them a pair of menu placards. "Drinks?"

"Just coffee for me." Patricia said.

"I'll have water for now, Miss." Russell said, giving the waitress a nod as he flipped open his menu.

Waiting until the waitress had left, Patricia let her eyes drift across the restaurant, before going back to Russell. Her expression ran half-pleased and half-maudlin, as her copper-hued eyes glimmered with memory. "Dad would've been proud of you, Russ."

"I'd like to think he would," Russell replied. "After his stint in Starfleet for, what . . . twenty years, as a senior non-comm?" He settled back into his chair with a touch of satisfaction. "Promised him I'd make good on the opportunities I've been given." He paused as the waitress returned with Patricia's coffee and a crystal glass of water for him. "So, how are things on the home-front?"

Putting her usual two-spoons of sugar into her cup, Patricia said, "Well, your oldest niece is about to enter into college. Bradley-Durham, for computer sciences." She grinned at the gawking expression that filled her older brother's face. "As for your youngest niece, she's about to graduate high school . . . with honors, no less!".

Russell whistled low, before picking up his glass to take a sip. "Wow, honors, eh? Seems she's finally coming around, after nearly flunking for a couple of years.".

"Well, I seem to remember a particular 'uncle' having a talk with her a few years back?" Patricia laughed softly as Russell's ears turned red. "Oh, Russ, it was because of you she turned herself around and really began to apply herself, academically. Otherwise, she'd have missed out on a lot of opportunities herself!".

Russell smiled. "Well, I figured Stringbean just needed a . . . push, to get her back on track. And, well . . . since her father-." He cut himself off, frowning deeply. "Sorry, sis. I-.".

"Russ, don't beat yourself up," Patricia said gently. "It's not your fault.".

"No . . . but, I should have seen the signs. At least, Pop would have . . . if he'd been around," Russell said, his tone equally soft yet clearly self-condemning.

Reaching out, Patricia laid her hand across his, squeezing it for emphasis. "Russ, stop blaming yourself! I clearly didn't know the full measure of the man I married. If I had, I wouldn't have gone through with the marriage, but . . . hindsight is always clearest after the fact, right?".

Russell nodded, turning his hand over to grip his sister's; focusing on a couple of barely-there, yet tell-tale scars across the back of her forearm. "Still, I or Ma or someone should've done something long before . . . I mean, you shouldn't have had it happen to you.".

"Russ, you can't change what's happened," Patricia said, her tone soothing as she held tightly to Russell's hand. "Besides, I'm the only one that go hurt. It was fortunate the girls we both with Ma for that weekend.".

"Yeah, because if that son-of-a-bitch had hurt either of your girls-?!". Russell snapped his mouth shut on the words that were bubbling up from an old, old ache. He blinked before looking at Patricia, then he forced himself to smile. "Sorry, Tish.".

"No, you're not. You're just being a paladin, again. Wanting to keep me and my girls safe." She gave his hand a pat, then said, "Like you always have. Never apologize for what you couldn't stop, Russ. Just focus on the things-.".

"That I can handle, right?" Russell said. "What Pop always told us, right?".

"Right. Now, are you going to stop beating yourself up, so we can at least enjoy the rest of the evening?" She glanced at her menu, and grinned. "After all, you're buying, right?".

Russell chuckled. "Evil wench. You just love me because now, I can treat you!"

Patricia gave him a crooked smile. "No, I'd love you in any case, because you're my brother . . . but, having you buy me something decadently chocolate-?". She laughed as he groaned dramatically. "What?".

"You're always going to be addicted to sweets, Tish! But, far be it from me to ignore your sweet tooth!" He gestured to the menus. "Come on, let's see what I can do to sate both our appetites, before you have to get back to the girls. And I have to return to my duties in the morning.".

"Now," Patricia said with a smile. "You are getting the idea!"

In a moment, the waitress returned to receive their orders . . . .

.  
.

TO BE CONTINUED...  
.


	2. Chapter 1

**STAR TREK : VALIANT**

**a story by Stephen R. Sobotka - 2016/2018**

**Disclaimer! **_\- _This is a fan-fiction, based on characters and situations from the Paramount/DeSilu TV series "**Star Trek**"; created by **Gene Roddenberry**._ This has been written solely for other fans of the franchise to enjoy, not to gain profit for the author. All characters, with exception of any that I have I created for these stories, are TM and Copyrighted by the original creator & Paramount, and are used without their knowledge._

_Please don't sue, since this was done as a tribute to the spirit of the original show and subsequent series._  
_._  
_.  
_**Author's Note**_ : _This story started out as a "labor of love" for the entire Star Trek franchise. It's not_ intended to be a replacement for any one series. It grew out of a short discussion I had with a dear friend - _**Penmouse**_ here in - and grew into this telling of how I'd do a Star Trek story. There's going to be a few appearences by some familiar characters, and some surprises around the corner too. So, just sit back, strap in and enjoy the ride folks!_

_A personal thank-you to the late Mr. Roddenberry. Thank you for giving us a vast universe to play in. - SRS  
_.

.

**Chapter One  
**

_Personal Log: Stardate 76201.14 (March 15th, 2399)_

_I've just received word from Starfleet Command that the end is in sight, and with the final days of construction on my new ship approaching, I need to be aboard to oversee the final preparations for her maiden voyage. It's been a bit frustrating, just sitting here, going over reports, processing "paperwork" and just waiting in general . . . but after years of dedicated service to Starfleet, plus recognition for actions taken during the Dominion war I'm finally getting a ship of my own. It's an exciting event. One I hope both myself and my soon-to-be assigned crew will be ready for._

_Speaking of which, I'm expected to meet with a few of my crew at Spacedock today, to go over a general inspection of NCC-71969. I don't expect a lot of hiccups, but i do anticipate that this will be a formative meeting for all concerned.  
_.

.

**Spacedock Delta, Utopia Planitia Shipyards in Orbit above Mars...  
**.

.  
The shuttlepod tractored into the docking cupola with a slight bump and hiss, as the station's tractors held the craft firmly inside the access port. Taking a moment to note the pod's status and the station's systems, the lone technician turned and nodded to the passenger seated behind them. "Docking complete. Airlock is sealed, Sir. You may now deport at your convenience."

Standing, Captain Russell Ridley nodded and said, "Thank you, Pilot.". Turning, the russet-haired officer adjusted his uniform tunic, straightening his sleeves before reaching out to press the hatch release control on the wall. As the doors opened onto the Observation Deck. he picked up the small case propped against the pod's wall and stepped through, proceeding to the main compartment beyond.

The deck compartment beyond was wide, and for the most part empty. Save for a few technicians and service crew people - most of whom paused in their tasks to acknowledge his appearance from the docked shuttle pod. Captain Ridley gave them a nod, then turned his dark blue eyes to sweep the compartment. His gaze came to rest on a short, ruddy-skinned humanoid clad in the umber-accented workman's uniform; bearing the sigil of the shipyard command.

Stepping towards them, Ridley caught a small fragment of their conversation with a fellow crewer, before they noticed his approach. Dismissing the crewer, the officer turned and nodded to him. "Greetings, Captain," they said. "Welcome aboard Spacedock!"

Ridley smiled and offered his hand, shaking their outstretched hand firmly. "It's good to be aboard, Commander . . . ?"

"Commander Nog, Senior Engineer, Yard Division 10, Sir." The short Ferengi stood tall, clasping his hands behind his back. "It is an honor to assist you with acquiring the latest ship here at Spacedock Delta."

"Believe me, Commander, the honor's all mine." Ridley looked around the chamber and frowned. "Though, I was expecting one of my officers to met me here?"

"I was told we've had some technical delays with some of the turbo-lifts," Nog said. "I presume they're on their way-." He turned just as two crewers behind them made quick, verbal salutes to a slim, dark-skinned figure - bearing the blue uniform of Starfleet Science Division - who had just rounded the corner and was entering the bay. "Ah! They have arrived!"

Ridley nodded, and waited on the newcomer to approach. As they reached them, he said aloud, "Commander Tes, is it?"

"Indeed, Captain Ridley," the Vulcan woman said, tipping her head forward in deference. "Commander," she said to Nog, who returned her greeting. "I am regretfully late, Sir. I was reluctant to arrive without your X.O., yet she is detained with a . . . dispute inside main engineering aboard your ship."

Captain Ridley's frown returned with a vengeance. "Dispute? Hm. Better look into this." He turned to Nog to say, "Forgive me, Commander, but seems there's no rest for the weary."

"There's never a lack of things to take care of, Captain. I also have a few dozen matters under my own watch to see to." Nog nodded to him and Tes. "I'll leave you two to your command, then. Excuse me." With that, he turned and headed off towards a cluster of crewmen working at a disassembled terminal deeper in the chamber.

At at, Ridley turned and motioned to Tes to follow him as he moved to leave the chamber. "What's the dispute about, Miss Tes?"

"Commander Stuart is currently addressing the staff overseeing construction in Engineering," Tes said, stepping aside before she fell in beside him as they headed down the corridor ring. "There is a slight . . . disagreement over the assignment of Chief Engineer, which she is attempting to rectify."

"Disagreement? There shouldn't be any dispute at all!" Ridley said, looking at the Vulcan archly while they walked towards a bank of turbo-lifts nearby. "Didn't my requests for the crew assignments ever get verified by Command?"

"Indeed, Sir. Though I believe some of your requests have been . . . as you Earthmen say it, "Snafued"? There's been words from Starfleet Personnel, and there is a delay in filling your request for Chief Engineer and Navigator." Tes folded her hands behind her back, keeping in stride with Ridley's long legged gait as they hurried along. "Starfleet Personnel's communiques were forwarded to the Commander, and . . . in light of the situation currently in Engineering, both she and I felt it best that we all address it, together."

Shaking his head, Ridley said, "I thought I made my thoughts clear on this weeks ago. This ship's going to be my first command, and I only want the best that Starfleet can give me to fill her billets, considering the mission ahead of us." They reached the bank of turbo lifts, and as the doors opened Ridley and Tes stepped through without pause. "Main Deck Access." Ridley ordered to the control panel. As the lift started moving, he faced Tes squarely. "What can you tell me about the delay, and what's currently happening with Engineering?"

"The delay hasn't been completely explained, Captain. Though I presume that it will be resolved once we act to clear up the relevant details," Tes said. Her slanted eyes unblinking as she faced him. "However, the situation in Engineering is as follows: the current assigned chief officer - one of the station's top crewmen - believes they are to head your Engineering team once the ship's construction is complete."

"A little presumptuous of this fellow, isn't it?"

Tes reached down to her waist and removed a data-PADD from a holster there. "I took the liberty of drawing up his personnel file. He has a . . . "knack" for operational systems, troubleshooting and comes highly recommended by the Spacedock command staff. Even if he does get a touch emotional with his fellow crew-mates."

Crossing his arms after accepting the PADD, Ridley scanned it briefly before looked pointedly at Tes. "Won't fault someone who feels they've got the chops to do the job required . . . but to presume they're the only bull in the paddock, so to say . . . ?"

"I believe they feel it is only logical, Captain." Tes replied calmly. "They have been a part of the ship's construction since the keel was transferred from Earth to Mars."

Snorting, Ridley read more of the information on the PADD before saying, "Time in position doesn't necessarily equate to a guaranteed billet. That's not how I plan to run my command. I prefer to have the best individual in slot, and that's usually one I know and can recommend." He sighed. "Though why they're picking a fight over this now-?"

"I can only presume what logic dictates, Captain. This . . . Engineer might believe he can get a quick promotion in grade, if he proves to be invaluable to our needs. In any case, it is illogical for them to protest any prior command decision on the matter of assignment."

"Well, serving with humans for any length of time should tell you we're not often the most 'logical' of creatures, Commander," Ridley said.

"Indeed." Tes tipped her head, listening as the lift passed through a buffer field, slowing down as they approached their destination. "Should I inform the Commander that you have arrived?" she asked, reaching up towards her comm-badge, only to pause when Ridley raised his hand.

"No, I want to see how she's handling this," he said, palming the PADD before passing it back to Tes. "Besides, if someone is this arrogant to believe they can argue their case for assignment, I'd like to know who we're dealing with here. Who knows? If we can't get my first choice for the billet from Starfleet, then we'll have to see if we can't keep our options open." He shot Tes a pointed look before adding, "But I won't stand for someone trying to bully their way into a command slot, understand me?"

"Yes, Captain."

The lift came to a stop, and the doors opened up on the wide, open space of the Spacedock's main deck. Stepping out, Ridley and Tes made their way over to where some of the stations crew were manning a command console. As they approached, one of the senior officers noted their arrival and turned to face them. "Captain! Welcome to Spacedock! Lieutenant Jacob," he said formally.

"Lieutenant," Ridley said, nodding. "The Commander and I need to go aboard our ship. Is there another shuttle pod on stand-by?"

Lt. Jacob frowned. "Sorry, sir. Not at this moment. We're somewhat in a bind, and pods usually get quickly re-assigned duties. Though, we do have a transporter pad ready."

"Are the ship's systems ready to receive transport signals?" Ridley asked.

"Yes, sir! Is there particular deck on board you wish to go?"

"Main Engineering, if you please?"

Lt. Jacob turned and got the attention of another tech. "Ready Pad-Two for transport. Two to go aboard. Main Engineering." He faced Ridley and pointed off to where an open transporter dias was. "We'll put you in right outside Main Engineering. At your convenience, Captain."

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Nodding to Tes, he led the way to the transporter, where they took up places on two of the lighted segments on its surface. Bracing his left hand behind his back, he checked to see if his companion was ready, then nodded to Lt. Jacobs. "Energize.".

.  
.

# # # #

.

.

**Main Engineering, Aboard **_**NCC-71969**_**, Spacedock Delta...  
**.

.  
Standing in the shadow of the warp core, Commander Belinda Lethbridge-Stuart stared down at the shorter man before her. While usually a patient woman, with her British upbringing often helping where that was concerned, the level of her reserve was being thoroughly tested by the short, fair-haired fellow standing before her.

"Honestly, Ma'am - an' with all due respect fer yer rank an' all - but Starfleet would'na make a bigger mistake if they left a Ferengi in charge o' their purse-strings! Have all ya high-falootin' Command-types lost yer senses?"

"Mister McCaffrey," Belinda said evenly. "Despite what you may or may not believe, Starfleet command has made it clear as to whom is to be assigned to the position of Chief Engineer for this vessel. All your blustering will not change that fact."

"Oh, really!?" Grayson McCaffrey asked archly. "Even th' fact that I'm practically the only man who's seen th' quirks in this bucket's systems from th' keel up?" He motioned to the compartment around them, and made a scornful sound. "Trust me, Ma'am. Yer ne'er gonna find another Engineer tha' knows this ship, inside an' out! No matter who's been chosen by Starfleet."

Feeling her short-bobbed hair begin to bristle at his comments, Stuart was about to say something when she heard the doors to the compartment open behind her. Turning about on reflex, her heather-brown eyes widened in relief when she saw Ridley and Tes enter. "Captain on Deck!" she said loudly, stepping aside so that McCaffrey could also see him. All around the chamber, crew people and civilian techs came to a halt - the ones in Starfleet uniforms coming to quick attention - as Ridley and Tes moved pointedly towards the Commander.

"Commander." Ridley said, coming to a halt beside her as he eyed McCaffrey briefly.

"Captain Ridley. Commander Tes," Stuart said with respect. "Welcome aboard, Sir. I trust you're here to inspect our progress."

"You presume right." Ridley nodded, then glanced around the compartment. "So far, so good. Yet, I hear there's a dispute at the moment."

Before Stuart could reply, McCaffrey said archly, "Oh, there is, at that, Sir."

"Sir, this is Lieutenant Grayson McCaffrey," Stuart said, motioning with a gesture. "He's been leading the construction teams since the arrival of the hull here at Spacedock, and . . . believes, he's the best candidate for her Chief Engineer. I've tried to explain-."

"What's t'splain', Commander?" McCaffrey glared at her before addressing Ridley directly, "Captain, I'm more than qualified t'lead th' Engineering Team. Since I tried t'splain ta th' Commander, here. I know all o' th' systems, backwards n' forwards, sideways n' e'en upside down." He nodded for emphasis. "Believe you-me, Sir. Ya canna ask fer no one better!"

Commander Stuart watched, and only her iron will kept her from interrupting and losing her temper over this obnoxious, little man in front of her commanding officer.

"Well, Mister . . . McCaffrey?" Ridley said at length. "You believe that alone qualifies you for a billet aboard this ship?"

"Aye, Sir." McCaffrey propped his hands on his hips and smiled.

"I see." He glanced at Stuart, then crossed his arms and stared hard at the Engineer. "Well, Mister," He said evenly, "considering that Starfleet has some trouble with finalizing assignments here on my ship, the position of Chief Engineer is still up in the air."

McCaffrey smirked at Stuart. An expression that practically melted like iron in a crucible at Ridley's next words: "However, the final assignment choice isn't up to some upstart officer who's not exactly in command of the entire ship. Because _that_ is my position as Ship's Captain, and it's _my_ choice to make. I'm sorry to say I already have a Chief Engineer in mind for my crew. In fact, I plan to have them aboard within the next few days." As the look of surprise filtered through McCaffrey's face, Ridley said with some steel in his tone, " However, since you apparently know this ship systems so well, I expect that you can have them ready for inspection, well in advance of when my Chief Engineer arrives to take over from you."

McCaffrey looked gobsmacked, letting his hands fall away from his waist. "But, Captain-?!"

"After all, _if_ my choice is confirmed, they'll want to know that _everything_ in Engineering is in top shape for when we finally lift ship for our shakedown cruise." Ridley added, "As you said, Starfleet only assigns the best for a new ship. It's what I would expect from anyone wishing to take a berth aboard any command I am in charge of." Ridley's expression darkened as he added, "I also demand that _my_ crew people check their egos at the airlock as well, Mister. Including junior officers who feel they know more than their Captain."

As McCaffrey felt the weight of Ridley's gaze and displeasure hit him like a meteor, he backed up a pace and said, "But, I mean . . . I-I didn't mean to-!"

"No, you probably didn't, Mister McCaffrey, but that doesn't excuse your attitude!" Ridley unfolded his arms and loomed closer to the hapless young man. "For now, consider yourself reprimanded and put on report. As well, you'll find yourself reduced in rank, Mister. Commander Tes?"

"Yes, Captain?" Tes asked.

"After we've dealt with the necessary items, pertaining to Chief McCaffrey here, we'll need to find a temporary duty officer to continue to oversee Engineering. At least either we finish construction here, or my Chief Engineer reports on board." He glanced over his shoulder, adding, "Speak to Spacedock and see if they have anyone they can spare, if there's no one onboard who can fit the bill." Returning his gaze to McCaffrey, he said, "You'll remain on board to assist in whatever duties are required, then afterwards . . . after I confer with my Chief Engineer and staff, we'll see what happens to you then. Understood, Mister?"

McCaffrey looked up and nodded meekly. "Aye, Captain. Understood, Sir."

Stepping back, Ridley nodded curtly, then said, "Back to your assigned duties then." He turned to Stuart and Tes. "Commanders, if you'll accompany me? We're needed up on the command deck." Turning away, Ridley lead the two women out of the compartment and down the hallway.

Outside of Engineering, Stuart - walking just behind Ridley's left - said with a sigh, "I am sorry, Captain. I should have handled that better."

"Not your fault, Commander." Ridley said. "On the way over I had a look at the background on Mister McCaffrey. Aside from his . . . attitude, he is a crack wrench-monger and systems tech. Easy to see why the Spacedock assigned him to work on this ship's systems."

"Still, for him to presume he was going to be Chief Engineer-?" Stuart made a cross sound. "The nerve of him!"

Chuckling, Ridley said, "Nerve only gets you so far in Starfleet, Commander. Fortunately, he's not a total discipline problem, or otherwise I'd have dismissed him on the spot." As they reached the ship's main turbo lift, he paused and faced both Stuart and Tes. "Still, I expect him to toe the line, until our real Head of Engineering arrives. Which," he said, thumbing the lift access to open the doors, "I hope will be rectified soon."

Nodding as she preceded Tes into the lift, Stuart said, "I'll see to rectifying the delay, Captain."

Stepping in with his officers, Ridley nodded. "Do that, Commander. Main Bridge," he said, as the lift doors closed.

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# # # #

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**Main Bridge, **_**NCC-71969**_**, Spacedock Delta...  
**.

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As the lift doors opened onto the bridge, Captain Ridley stepped clear and led his two Command Officers onto the mid-deck.

He made note of the crew members manning the main consoles. While not completely staffed during this late stage of construction, the ship was slowly beginning to come to life as the shipyard staff was being replaced by the assigned compliment as they arrived. Already, some junior officers and non-comms were taking charge of the operations, under the watchful eye of a senior officer; currently standing in the center of the lowor portion of the bridge.

Even though most of the people on the bridge were wearing Starfleet standard uniforms, this officer was dressed in the tan and brown colors of a Bajoran Regular Army Officer.

As Commander Stuart and Tes came alongside him, Ridley nodded to a passing crew member - motioning for him to be silent before he announced them - before he stepped down onto the lower floor to join the Bajoran officer in front of the captain's chair. "I see you're keeping things moving smoothly, Major."

Turning around, the slim, fit looking woman's eyes widened and she braced to attention. "Captain on the Bridge! Welcome aboard, Sir!"

Waving a hand, Ridley said, "No need to stand on ceremony, Mouse."

The Bajoran relaxed a bit, as her face filled with a mock-scowl. "I thought we agreed to keep that nickname private?" She eyed the two women behind him, before she said in a more relaxed tone, "It's good to see you again, Russell."

"Always good to see an old friend," Ridley said, before holding out a hand to have it taken in a firm handshake. He then turned to indicate his companions. "This is Commander Belinda Lethbridge-Stuart and Lieutenant Commander Tes; our Exec and Chief Science Officer. Commanders, this is Major Cheska Malikov. I previously served with the Major while fighting during the action to end the Dominion Occupation of Bajor and Deep Space Nine. She's to be our ship's Chief of Security and Tactical Officer."

Tes nodded. "Major, it is an honor to serve alongside you."

Stuart added, "Indeed. I've read your dossier. You were an asset to Starfleet during the Dominion War."

With a bit of a blush, Major Cheska said, "I was only doing my duty to my home and people, Commander. Nothing more." Brushing back a few stray locks of her purple hair, she looked at Ridley and asked, "Have you come to assume command, Sir?"

"There's a few things to do before that happens, Major. I'm sort of at an ad-hoc status, until I receive the final orders from Starfleet Command," Ridley explained. "Though once we clear up a few mishaps, I should be able to take charge and see things through our final days here on Spacedock. After which, we'll be on our shakedown cruise and then . . . who knows where. Until then, we've got a ship to finish and prepare for launching in four weeks time."

All three women nodded. "I've already received the bulk of my Security Detachment on board, Captain. There's a few minor alterations required, but nothing should delay us from meeting our launch deadline."

Ridley nodded, and turned to Tes. "I expect you'll have the Science Division running up to par in short order, Commander?"

"Indeed, Sir. I shall not delay, once the remaining members of my staff are aboard."

"Good." Ridley made a gesture with both hands. "Then I'll leave you two to your duties. Meanwhile, myself and the Exec have our own battles to fight with Personnel." He turned to nod to Stuart. "Care to join me in the Ready Room, Commander?"

"After you, Sir." Together, they stepped away and headed for the door at the left side of the bridge. Ridley paused briefly to permit Stuart to proceed him - watching as his Science Officer and Security Chief took a moment to speak together, before they parted and headed off to opposite ends of the bridge - before smiling and turning to enter the ready room himself.

Inside, he walked the length of the conference table and placed his small case near the lone chair at its head. Commander Stuart had already begun accessing the lone terminal near her own chair, but she remained standing while he approached. Looking up, she met his eyes and nodded. "So, shall we begin with the problems with Personnel, sir?"

"Indeed, but hold off a moment, Commander." Ridley opened his case and extracted a pair of data-PADDs, taking a second to eye one of them before passing it over. "This is the latest manifest and list of unfinished tasks, sent over by Commodore Bentley. He's keen to see us kitted out and ready for space trials by early April, at the least."

Stuart nodded, taking the pad to place by her terminal and looking down at it. "Some of this won't be a problem to complete, Sir."

"I thought not," Ridley said. Moving over to take his seat, he motioned for her to join him. "Besides this, I've also got to finalize the choice of our ship's name."

Stuart stared at him in surprise. "I was led to believe Shipyard Command had already assigned our ship a name?"

"Usually, they do. However, I think someone at the Shipyards staff is playing "Santa" with us." Ridley tapped his PADD with a finger. "I got a notice just yesterday that they're "willing to explore possible name suggestions" from myself and any other staff officer that has ideas." He shrugged. "I think Starfleet is just plain running out of names."

"I shouldn't wonder, Sir." Stuart glanced at the PADD then asked, "Have you come up with any ideas of your own, if I may be so bold to ask?"

Ridley grinned. "I have a few ideas. Some names have a long history tied into them. Battle honors, legacy and such," he said, sighing deeply. "But, I'll hold my enthusiasm until after we've settled our immediate concerns. Such as these personnel snafus that are facing us."

Nodding, Stuart keyed her terminal to life. "Right, Sir. Ready to begin when you are."

Ridley sat upright in his chair and cracked his knuckles. "Let's see if we can whittle away at some red-tape, shall we?"

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# # # #

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	3. Chapter 2

**STAR TREK : VALIANT**

**a story by Stephen R. Sobotka - 2016/2018**

**Disclaimer! **_\- _This is a fan-fiction, based on characters and situations from the Paramount/DeSilu TV series "**Star Trek**"; created by **Gene Roddenberry**._ This has been written solely for other fans of the franchise to enjoy, not to gain profit for the author. All characters, with exception of any that I have I created for these stories, are TM and Copyrighted by the original creator & Paramount, and are used without their knowledge._

_Please don't sue, since this was done as a tribute to the spirit of the original show and subsequent series._  
_._  
_._

**Author's Note**_ : _This story started out as a "labor of love" for the entire Star Trek franchise. It's not_ intended to be a replacement for any one series. It grew out of a short discussion I had with a dear friend - _**Penmouse**_ here in - and grew into this telling of how I'd do a Star Trek story. There's going to be a few appearences by some familiar characters, and some surprises around the corner too. So, just sit back, strap in and enjoy the ride folks!_

_A personal thank-you to the late Mr. Roddenberry. Thank you for giving us a vast universe to play in. - SRS  
_.

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**Chapter Two**

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_Captain's Log, Stardate 76250.77 (April 2nd, 2399)_

_I'm reminded of an ancient Chinese proverb. Actually, it's considered a curse: May you live in Interesting times._

_Currently, I wonder if some ancient Chinese put a curse on us. While things are proceding apace with finalizing the construction of our new ship, and the majority of the problems we faced when I first arrived at Spacedock have been resolved, we're still dealing if a few things that are frustraitingly difficult. This Includes the initial snag we had with Personel in regards to my selection of our Chief Engineer. I expect her to arrive before the end of the afternoon watch, along with our Chief Medical Officer and one individual that I am most looking forwards to welcoming aboard._

_Until then, Commander Stuart, the staff and I have a few other details to deal with. Chief among these is the nagging problem of filling the last slot on my Command Staff . . . ._

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# # # #

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**Captain's Ready Room, Main Bridge, **_**NCC-71969**_**, Spacedock Delta...**

"I've done as much as I can, coordinating efforts with Starfleet Personnel and the S.O. of Spacedock, Sir."

Standing at the far end of the conference table, Commander Stuart came to a pause in her briefing and stared at the staff officers seated at its head. "Unfortunately," she said with a note of finality, "I cannot find a suitable hand to fill our Navigator position. Either the ones most qualified are unable to be detached from Spacedock, or ones that Commodore Bentley is willing to part with are sorely lacking in helmsman experience we require for a starship of this class."

The sturdy-build Bajoran Major added, "I've also found a few of the possible candidates are lacking with security clearances," Cheska added, removing her glasses to rub her eyes for a bit. "Without them, they won't be permitted to even access our ship, much less fly it.".

Commander Stuart pinched the bridge of her nose before staring directly at Captain Ridley. "I'm sorry, Sir. Between Major Malikov and I, we're doing all that we can to solve this-."

"Ease off for a point, Commander." Ridley nodded, before leaning back in his seat to fold his hands together. "It's not for the lack of trying," he said to them both, watching as Cheska replaced her glasses. "I just find it hard to believe that Bentley is so bull-headed over this. Surely, he can forego at least one skilled pilot with the proper clearance?"

Commander Tes spoke up. "The Commodore is clearly not using logic in this matter, Sir. It would be simple to request Starfleet transfer a new pilot from the standing Reserves. It would take a week at the least for transfer, allowing for time in transit from Earth. Time, that we unfortunately do not have, if we are to launch this ship on schedule."

"Try and make Commodore Bentley see it that way, Commander," Commander Stuart said, her clipped tone speaking volumes of her opinion on the head of Spacedock.

Smothering a grin, Ridley said, "Now, let's not be too judgemental here, Belinda. Even so, Miss Tes has a point. Bentley's being short-sighted on this matter, but I can't very well knock him lopsided and demand he . . . open his eyes, just to make the decision easier." He rose and tapped the surface of the table for emphasis. "Tes also has the right of things. Unless we solve this hiccup, we'll be stuck behind schedule and that will not please the superiors at Starfleet, at all."

"I don't like going over a superior officer's head," Stuart said. "But, we may not have any choice in the matter."

Tes nodded. "Should we not look to other sources of pilots, as a temporary solution until Starfleet can-?"

"Tes, be reasonable besides logical," Stuart said. "We're at Spacedock. Where else are we going to find other pilots with Star fleet-qualifications? Apart from conscripting a civilian . . . ?"

Arching one thin eyebrow, the dark-skinned Vulcan replied, "A civilian pilot would offer just such a temporary fix."

"Such a pilot would also need to be cleared by Starfleet Security first, if you don't mind my saying so, Commander," Cheska said pointedly.

Ridley nodded. "That would just delay us further, waiting for the clearances to be verified." Shaking his head, Ridley stalked over to the lone viewport along the far wall of the room and peered outside for a moment. "No, we're going to either find our solution here, or else we'll have to submit a request to extend our departure date to Starfleet." He paused, catching sight of another starship through the view port - being serviced in another mooring slip, some kilometers away - and, with a thought, he turned and asked, "What about speaking to one of the other ship commands, currently in Spacedock? Wouldn't one of them be willing to part with a spare helmsman or pilot?"

The other three officers looked at one another. "It is possible, Sir." Stuart said. "Provided there are suitable candidates that meet the requirements the position demands."

"Agreed," Tes said simply. "We would need a Lieutenant at best. An Ensign, at the least. With enough time-in rate and service to-." Her words were cut off by the blare of the ship's red-alert alarm.

Before the others could react, the Bajoran Major turned and stabbed a finger at the command panel on the wall next to her. "Bridge! Major Malikov, Report!"

"_We almost had a ship-to-ship collision, Major!_" a crew member reported over the COMM. "_A cargo carrier, off our starboard side._"

At that, Ridley stood and moved over to join Cheska at the panel. "Bridge, this is the Captain. What's our status?"

"_No damage, Captain . . . from what we can tell, the carrier lost control while shifting some supplies. We only avoided collision when a shuttle pod rammed the carrier off course at the last moment._"

Ridley shared a look with Cheska. "Rammed by a pod? Are the crews injured?"

"_No word yet, Sir. Recovery teams are seeing to both the carrier and pod. Should we have them brought down to Spacedock?_"

Ridley thought for a moment, then said, "No. Notify the teams to transfer both pilots to Shuttle Bay One. We'll have medical personnel to take anyone wounded or injured to our med-bay. Ridley out." He glanced at Tes and Stuart. "Head to the bridge and see that no debris is around our ship, and see to an overview of all ship systems, Commander. Notify our standing medical personnel to send a med-team to Shuttle Bay One to meet us there. Major? Come with me. I want to see the pilots, first hand." With that, he headed for the doorway of the Ready Room.

"Aye, Sir." Cheska said, following behind him. They crossed the bridge at a trot, entering the main turbo lift. "Deck Ten." As the doors closed, she looked up and asked, "Captain, while I'm sure the Recovery Team can handle this . . . why are you-?"

"Just thinking outside the box, Major." Ridley said.

"Well, you do have a penchant for that, Sir."

Ridley looked back at her and nodded. "Think, Mouse. We're stuck with finding a pilot for our ship's compliment, and we nearly had an accident happen right outside the hull. Practically in our laps."

Jerking back at bit, Cheska asked, "But, what exactly does that have to do with-?" She cut herself off, as her expression shifted from confusion to sudden understanding. "The pilot of the shuttle pod! The one who averted the collision."

"Exactly, Major." Ridley smiled at her quick assessment. "A pilot that would risk their own life to divert a collision with another starship in Spacedock, is either someone extremely foolish, or is one hell of a helmsman if they kept anyone from being severely injured. That, just might be someone we're looking for to fill our Navigator slot." He blinked when he saw the arched smirk on her face. "What?"

"You still have that optimistic streak in you, Russell. Just like you were as a Lieutenant when you served my people on Bajor." Cheska shook her head. "Damn if I know why I even put up with it then."

"If you stick around, you'll just have to get used to it, all over again, Mouse." Ridley said, chuckling. The lift slowed to a stop, and he twitched his expression back to one of professional calm. "Come on, we've got to see to a possible new recruit."

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# # # #

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**Shuttle Bay One, Aboard **_**NCC-71969**_**, Spacedock Delta...**

Seated on a nearby storage pallet, Chief Petty Officer Anthony Piccoli hissed as the medic used a dermal re-generator to heal the gash in his arm. "Hey, easy, easy!" The short, stocky pilot grimaced. "I may need stitches, but that doesn't mean you gotta soak that doohickey with alcohol."

Across from Piccoli - on another container - a tall, sable-haired Lieutenant scowled at the smaller human. "Oh, do be quiet, Piccoli. Bad enough you got me banged up with your reckless piloting. The last thing I want to hear is your whining."

Looking over at him, Piccoli snorted. "You always worry about yourself, Skaar. Bad enough you didn't listen to me, when I tried to tell you that load wasn't balanced right." The medic finished applying the re-generator, and was now putting a bandage wrap around his arm. "I keep telling you to follow regulations, but you never want to hear it."

"Because you are nothing more than a grunt non-comm, Piccoli," Lt. Skaar said archly. "It's your job to listen to me and do as I say. I had the situation well in hand!"

"Yeah, sure, Lieutenant! You had things so well in hand, you nearly smashed that carrier into the side of this baby," Piccoli groused, looking around at the shuttle bay, before he snapped his gaze back around at Skaar. "If it wasn't for me-!"

"Captain on Deck!"

The call from another member of the med-team sent both Piccoli and Skaar to their feet, bracing to attention as the tall, russet-haired visage of a Starfleet Captain - accompanied by a purple-haired woman in Bajoran Army togs - appeared and marched directly to where they stood. Piccoli locked eyes briefly with Skaar, before returning to attention, waiting as the command officer addressed his medical personnel.

_Oh great,_ Piccoli thought to himself. _Looks like another Starfleet Command ball-buster, come to ruin my day._

The Captain nodded, listening to the medic's report, before waving them aside to address the two pilots. "Gentlemen. I'm Captain Ridley, Commanding Officer of this vessel." He nodded to the Bajoran. "My Security Chief, Major Malikov. Now, suppose we break this down, from the beginning." He stared at Skaar. "Lieutenant?"

Skaar nodded brusquely. "Lieutenant Skaar, 3rd Transport Division, assigned to Spacedock Delta. What would the Captain wish to know, Sir?"

"For starters, I'd like to know why there was almost a collision with my ship?" Captain Ridley asked. "Care to explain that, Lieutenant?"

"Sir, I was transporting several pallets of supplies for this ship," Skaar explained. "I was in transit when something happened and I temporarily lost control of my carrier."

At that, Piccoli snorted and muttered under his breath.

Ridley turned and looked at the Petty Officer. "Something you would care to say, Chief, ah-?"

"Piccoli, Sir. Chief Petty Officer Anthony Leo Piccoli, Sir," Piccoli said. "And, no . . . I don't believe anything I'd have to say would matter here, Sir."

At that, Ridley turned to stare at the Major, before facing Piccoli again. "Why would you think that, Chief?"

"Respectfully, Sir, I refuse to answer that." He looked pointedly at Skaar and fell silent.

Ridley stared at Piccoli, then glanced at Skaar. "Lieutenant, is there a good reason why the Chief wouldn't answer my question?"

"I am sorry, Captian, but I would not know. Sir." Lt. Skaar said.

Ridley cleared his throat and looked between the officer and non-comm, before saying, "Gentlemen, I didn't wake up this morning to deal with a Mexican Standoff. Now, there was a reason for that cargo carrier going haywire. If it had collided with my ship . . . a lot of people would have been injured. Even killed. Now, either of you knows the reason why, and for some reason, neither of you want to come clean." He crossed his arms and stared hard at the two. "I can surmise the truth, but . . . I'd rather hear it from one of you, before I take this up with your division leader." A fulminating silence stretched out between them all. "Well?"

Piccoli looked at Ridley, back to Skaar, then he hitched his shoulders and sighed. "Captain, I know the reason why."

Skaar scowled. "Chief, don't-!"

"Don't what, Lieutenant?!" Piccoli snapped. "Say anything? I'm a little tired of always know-towing to your sensibilities, just to cover your behind." He turned to the Captain. "Sir, the truth is that Lt. Skaar had overloaded his carrier, without bothering to check if it was properly balanced before lifting off. I pointed it out to him, but he ignored my repeated statements." Taking a deep breath, Piccoli continued on in a rush, saying, "I followed in a pod to offer assistance, but he accelerated past required safety limits to deliver his payload before something happened. That destabilized the carrier's center of gravity. When he tried to over-compensate, it knocked the carrier off-kilter and sent it spinning towards your ship."

Ridley glanced at Skaar - who stood there fuming - before facing Piccoli again. "So, you purposely rammed him, to prevent the imminent collision with my ship?"

"Yessir. It was either that, or . . . well, like you said. A lot of your people could've been killed." Piccoli said.

Skaar cleared his throat, before stating, "In doing that, you violated a major part of Ship-handling regulations, Piccoli."

Giving the Lieutenant a hard stare, Piccoli said, "I know that, Lieutenant. It's a violation that pretty much calls for my being put in the brig, but I ask you: would you have risked your life to stop others from being injured!?"

"Enough, gentlemen!" Ridley said, before Skaar could drag the two of them further into a shouting match. "For the record, the Lieutenant has it right. Collisions at Spacedock, even between transport and maintenance ships is a clear violation of the Regs." He glanced at them both - seeing the smug look on Skaar's face and the defeated one on Piccoli's - before he said evenly, "Still, it's a greater violation to endanger the lives of other Starfleet crew people, when you attempt to operate without regard to standard safety protocols."

Piccoli watched in disbelief as the Captain rounded on Skaar, who was looking just as shocked.

"Lieutenant, I want you to report to your Division supervisor, and have yourself taken under custody. I intend to file a full report, along with Chief Piccoli's testimony at the gross negligence you've displayed today." Before Skaar could respond, Ridley turned and nodded to the Major. "Call up a security detail to escort the Lieutenant off my ship. Make certain he reaches his supervisor in due course."

"At once, Sir," Major Malikov said, tapping her comm-badge.

"You're dismissed, Lieutenant." Ridley watched as Skaar faltered, then he braced to attention and moved to leave the docking bay.

Piccoli watched him go in silence, then sighing, he started to follow after him.

"Mister Piccoli."

Piccoli stopped and turned back, facing the Captain. "Sir?"

"I didn't dismiss you." Ridley said. "In fact, you're not going anywhere."

Piccoli frowned. "Ah, look, um . . . Sir, with all due respect, what I did was just as bad as what Lt. Skaar did. I should be locked up, too."

At that, Ridley nodded. "True, but what you just did took a lot of guts. Stating the incompetence of a senior officer, when it clearly wasn't going to go over well for you by doing so." He motioned for Piccoli to return to his seat on the container, while he stood there at watched him for a moment. "I take it the Lieutenant hasn't been treating you well, as of late?"

Piccoli gave a snort of laughter, before saying, "That's an understatement, Captain. Lt. Skaar's not exactly on everyone's Christmas List in the Division . . . if you get my meaning, Sir?" Piccoli didn't know why he was compelled to say this. _Especially to a command officer that could just as well throw the Book at ME, as he just did to Skaar._

"I take it this has been going on for a while, then." Ridley made a slight gesture to the Major - who had returned from the entrance of the bay - who nodded after removing a data-PADD from her belt.

"Ever since I got here, Sir." Piccoli crossed his arms and sighed. "Several of us have tried to tell our Division leaders, but Skaar? Hmph! He manages to sweet talk his way out of trouble, each and every time." Shaking his head, he added, "The rest of us just do what we can to do damage control, and keep the Division Head from shippin' us off to Abu-Dahbi."

At that, Ridley chuckled. "Or to Gulag-13, I'd say?"

Piccoli couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"In any case, what you did was a violation of Ship-handling," Ridley said at length, his eyes flicking between him and the Major briefly. "Yet, had you not done that, I'd be filling for damage reports, loss of life and my sick bay would be filled with wounded, before my Chief Medical officer has even arrived here." He tipped his head towards Piccoli. "For that, you have my thanks, Chief."

"Ah, Sir . . . I only did what I thought was right," Piccoli said. "I'm just glad it worked out okay."

"Indeed." Ridley looked up as Major Cheska seemed to smile at the data she was reading. "And yet, I still have a matter or two that needs addressing here."

"Sir?" Piccoli asked.

"Yes, you see . . . considering WHAT you did, just to prevent further losses of life, I'm not going to charge you with bad ship handling or have you brigged." Piccoli's face went slack with shock, but Ridley pressed on. "As such, I've been trying to locate a suitable pilot for our command staff. Someone with experience in both helmsman-ship and navigation." Ridley shrugged. "I tried working with Commodore Bentley, but he's not exactly been the cooperating sort."

"Well, that's not hard to expect, Sir," Piccoli said, recovering quickly. "The Commodore usually keeps a tight grip on all his best men."

"Agreed." Ridley paused, as the Major handed him the data-PADD. He glanced at it while saying, "Which is why I've had to consider using some rather draconian tactics to acquire a new pilot." He paused, and blinked. "Hmm . . . very interesting. Very interesting, indded."

"What's that, um, if you don't mind my asking, Sir?" Piccoli peered at the PADD, but at the angle Captain Ridley was holding it, he couldn't read what he was reading.

"No, I don't mind. I had asked Major Malenkov to pull your personnel file while we're talking. Figured that, any pilot willing to risk both his life and his career to save others, was worth looking into." He read more of the data on the PADD, and jerked his head back. "Seems you've done a lot for yourself in Starfleet, Chief. Astrogation duties aboard three separate ships . . . even were part of Red Flight at the Academy. Impressive."

Feeling his cheeks color, Piccoli said, "Ah, I was only part of that for one year . . . I had other priorities after I missed some scores on my mathematics test during my second year. They only accept the top cadets for the Demonstration Team, Sir." Piccoli shrugged. "Guess I could've done better."

"Point is, Chief, I actually _have_ the means to give you an opportunity to do better," Ridley explained. "That is, if you'd be interested?"

"Opportunity, Sir?"

Ridley nodded. "As I said, the Commodore isn't being too helpful with our search for a new pilot. Yet, I think we just found a prime candidate."

Blinking, Piccoli stared at both officers in surprise. "What, you mean . . . me? You want me to be your Head Pilot, Captain?"

"In essence, your position would be Chief Navigator," the Major explained. "Our primary helmsman."

"I'll be frank, Mister Piccoli," Ridley said in earnest. "I need someone that not only has the skills the position requires, but also the drive to help others, and work with a crew. Not against them. The fact you were willing to go against Regulations, even though you knew the risk of doing so, that makes you a better choice than any 'by-the-book' helmsman I could hope to find." Ridley nodded at the expression filling Piccoli's face. "You'd be a valued member of my staff, rather than just some misused crew member. Think about it."

Rising slowly, Piccoli shook his head. "That's . . . just the point, Sir. I can't help but think about it! I mean . . . it's almost too good to believe,": he said. Glancing at the Major, he turned back to Ridley and asked, "If I don't accept this, does this mean you'll go ahead and put a reprimand in my service record? For bumpin' hulls with Lt. Skaar, even though it saved his life?"

Trading looks with the Major, Ridley said, "I'm not so low as to stoop to blackmail, Mister Piccoli. If you refuse, I'll simply put a favorable page in your file, and see to it that you can be transferred to a more hospitable command. One where you won't have to worry about the likes of Lt. Skaar."

"You're serious? I mean, really Captain? You'd do that for me?" Piccoli asked.

"Either way, I can only see it as helping out someone with a promising career in Starfleet," Ridley said. "However, if you feel I'm just blowing smoke here, why don't we go speak to your Division Head about both options, and square the deal away properly?" He made a gesture with one hand. "After all, if there's a chance we can work together, I'd rather start off our relationship on the right foot."

Piccoli stared hard at the Captain, then at the Major - who nodded with an encouraging smile - before he snorted. "Well, either way. I guess I won't have to see Lt. Skaar's kisser . . . though, your offer gives me a chance to really do something good. I mean, in helping out your command and crew, that is."

"If you want to look at it that way, yes."

Drawing in a deep breath, Piccoli let it out and shook himself. "Well, dad always said, 'never look a gift horse in the mouth'," he said under his breath, before he looked at the deck, then back up into Ridley's face. "Captain, if you want me, ya got me." He offered his hand, to which the Captain shook it firmly.

"Happy to accept you, Chief. Come with me and the Major, and we'll speak to your Division head and get you squared away." He nodded to the Major, who let him step aside and precede them out of the hangar deck.

Following in behind, Piccoli fell in step with the Major as they filed out together. As they walked down the hallway, Piccoli suddenly looked up in alarm. "Hey! Just a minute!" He looked over as the Major turned to face him in concern. "If I'm gonna be the Chief Pilot . . . isn't that supposed to be assigned to an officer?"

Major Malikov chuckled. "I think that goes without saying."

"B-but, I'm just a Chief!" Piccoli said.

"Well, not any more," the Major said knowingly. "After all, Captain Ridley does command a starship. By right, he is allowed to grant a field commission to anyone who's earned it. As far as our Chief Navigator goes . . . I'd say that's at least an Ensign's pip for your collar."

At that, Piccoli came to a dead stop in shock. "W-wait . . . wait! You're joking, right? A-a-a . . . an Officer's commission? An officer of Starfleet!? ME?!"

Pausing, the Major looked at him bemusedly. "Would you rather remain a non-comm? I'm sure the Captain can-."

"No, no! That's not what I meant! I mean, it's just . . . ." Piccoli trailed off, then quickly got his wits back. "I got drummed out of the Academy because I didn't think I could hack it, Major. Now, your Captain is telling me . . . he wants me to serve as a Starfleet officer, aboard his ship?" He shook himself. "It's, ah . . . a lot to take in all of a sudden."

The Major smiled. "Trust me, Mister Piccoli, Captain Ridley isn't your average Starfleet officer," she said. "If he thinks you've got what he believes to do the job, then that's all that matters in the long run. I know from personal experience." She nodded towards the quickly-advancing back of the Captain, who was nearly out of sight ahead. "Come on, I'll make sure you're not left too far behind, while we get you squared away."

Piccoli nodded, following along beside her as they continued on ahead. "Geez, and I thought today was gonna be another day on the grind!".

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	4. Chapter 3

**STAR TREK : VALIANT**

**a story by Stephen R. Sobotka - 2016/2018**

**Disclaimer! **_\- _This is a fan-fiction, based on characters and situations from the Paramount/DeSilu TV series "**Star Trek**"; created by **Gene Roddenberry**._ This has been written solely for other fans of the franchise to enjoy, not to gain profit for the author. All characters, with exception of any that I have I created for these stories, are TM and Copyrighted by the original creator & Paramount, and are used without their knowledge._

_Please don't sue, since this was done as a tribute to the spirit of the original show and subsequent series._  
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**Author's Note**_ : _This story started out as a "labor of love" for the entire Star Trek franchise. It's not_ intended to be a replacement for any one series. It grew out of a short discussion I had with a dear friend - _**Penmouse**_ here in - and grew into this telling of how I'd do a Star Trek story. There's going to be a few appearences by some familiar characters, and some surprises around the corner too. So, just sit back, strap in and enjoy the ride folks!_

_A personal thank-you to the late Mr. Roddenberry. Thank you for giving us a vast universe to play in. - SRS_

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**Chapter Three**

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_Captain's Log, Supplemental... (April 2nd, 2399)_

_My meeting with the Division Head on Spacedock Delta went a lot smoother than I expected. It appears not everyone wishes to bend to the desires of Commodore Bentley - or stick up for officers that slack on the job - as I was able to make the acquisition of our new Navigator go forwards with minimal fuss._

_I don't doubt that Bentley will take the news so well, but I fortunately have the backing of Starfleet Command - as well as BuShips - in this matter. By the time the Commodore can log a proper protest, we'll be out of Spacedock and well underway. In the mean time, I'm happy to report our newly-minted Ensign Piccoli has taken to his reassignment like a Praxxian shark to water. Which is a good thing, as we'll need his skills at the helm of our newly-created starship very soon._

_Apart from this, I've just received word that our latest additions to our ship - both in our final staff positions, and our ship's shuttle compliment - has just arrived at the Shipyards. I'm taking the liberty of having Mister Piccoli and Chief Petty Officer McCaffrey join me to meet our new arrivals down in Shuttle Bay Two._

_If either of them thinks he got the best surprise a few days earlier, well just wait until they see what's coming . . . ._

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**In Transit via Turbo Lift to Shuttle Bay One, NCC-71969; Spacedock Delta...**

Glancing askance at Ensign Piccoli, Grayson McCaffrey watched as the young officer made another adjustment to his tunic - the twelfth time in the last minute - before he sighed gustily.

"Wonder what the Captain's got in mind for us?" Tony asked aloud. He looked over at Grayson and nudged him. "I mean, it's not every day that you get summoned to meet with your C.O. for something mysterious, right?"

"I would'na know. Sir." Grayson said levelly.

Blinking a bit, Tony asked, "Um, Chief, ah . . . look, I'm sorta knew to bein' an officer here, so don't take anything I say too personal."

Grayson didn't turn his head from where he was staring at the lift doors. "No, sir. Ah'm well aware o' th' fact yer still green under yer collar-pips. No disrespect intended . . . Sir."

Tony watched him in silence for a bit, then shrugged. "Well, so long as you don't mind me, while I'm still getting used to this."

"Believe me, after a fashion . . . th' feelin's mutual. Sir." Grayson snorted then fell silent again.

Tony would have said more, but the lift slowed to a stop and the doors slid open. Straightening up, Tony made a small gesture to the non-comm. "Well, after you, Chief?"

Grayson shot a sharp look at Tony, before stepping to the side a pace. "Oh, no Sir. Please, after you. We mustn't keep th' Captain waitin'."

"Right." Tony drawled, before he stepped out of the lift and into the hallway; leading Grayson down to the open main doors of the cargo bay. The two young men entered, just in time to see Captain Ridley - standing with Commander Stuart, who was staring at something on a console display - turn and face them. As they approached, Ridley's face filled with a smile, while Stuart's was wreathed in a cool mask of calm indifference as she stared at Grayson.

"Good, you two made good time."

"Yessir," Piccoli said, coming to attention. "Reporting as ordered."

"What th' Ensign said, Sir." Grayson said cooly.

Stuart's eyes turned hard, but Ridley spoke before she could say something. "At ease, gentlemen. We're not standing on official protocol here. At least, not for the moment."

Tony relaxed, while seeing Grayson take on a stance of indifference. "If you don't mind my askin', Captain? Why are we here?"

Stuart let her icy stare slide off of Grayson, and her expression warmed a bit as she answered Tony's query, saying, "The last members of our command staff are arriving, Mister Piccoli. Two of them should be of interest to the both of you. However-."

"However," Captain Ridley said, his smile deepening, "it's the way they are arriving that should interest you most, Ensign."

A chime sounded from the console beside him, and a voice came over the speaker: "_Shuttle Kincaid to Hull-71969 . . . Am on final approach through Space Dock. Requesting permission to dock_."

Ridley turned and touched the comm-key on the console. "_Kincaid_, this is the Captain. Permission granted. Shuttle Bay One is now open to receive you."

"_Confirmed, Captain. Kincaid on approach. Autohelm disengaged . . . reducing speed. Maneuvering thrusters only._"

Ridley turned towards the far end of the shuttle bay, nodding to Stuart, McCaffrey and Piccoli. "As I said, gentlemen . . . this should be of signifigant interest to the both of you."

Turning, the two younger officers watched as the shuttle bay doors opened, and the view of space and Spacedock beyond was replaced with the sight of an approaching craft. The sleek vehicle wasn't the standard Shuttle pod or even a Starfleet runabout, but its sillohuette was instantly recognizable by the Ensign.

"That-! Th-that's a _Delta-class_ Shuttle!" Tony said, awestruck at the sight as the ship slowed, making its way into the shuttle bay.

"Exactly. It's one of the newest models Starfleet produced from the original Delta Flyer, designed by Tom Paris," Ridley said. He chuckled slightly, seeing the expression on his Chief Helmsman's face. "She's also going to be our primary shuttle, after we take her on for a few shakedown flights."

At that, Tony turned and grinned like a schoolboy. "Woah, Starfleet's assigned one of those to us, Captain?"

"Officially, she's to be the Captain's 'gig', but . . . aside from the one runabout and the shuttle compliment we have, yes." Stuart shook her head, muttering to Ridley, "Seems we have a potential flyer pilot here, Captain."

Ridley nodded. "Not for nothing, Commander, but this shuttle came with its own qualified pilot. Someone whom I believe will be more than willing to give our Helmsman a proper schooling in the Delta's quirks and controls."

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By then, the _Kincaid_ had coasted to a stop in the center of the bay: coming to rest as her thrusters shut down. In moments, the side hatch opened, and a slim, female officer exited the craft. She paused to allow two other persons to leave the shuttle, before leading them both towards the assembled officers.

"Excellent ship-handling, Lieutenant," Ridley called out. "Welcome aboard."

"Thank you, Sir. For both the compliment and the welcome." The Lieutenant braced to attention and said, "Lt. Miral Paris, reporting as ordered."

"It's good to have you aboard, Lieutenant." Ridley stepped forward and the two shook hands. "Allow me to welcome aboard our Chief Medical officer as well." He faced the tall, bald-headed female who was clad in shimmering white clothes, standing just behind Paris.

"Greetings, Captain. I am Lieutenant Commander Ialandi. Permission to come aboard, Sir?"

"Permission granted." Ridley returned the Deltan's respectful nod, before he addressed the last arrival with a very deep bow. "You are also most-welcome aboard our ship, Ma'am," he said while straightening with a private smile in his eyes. "I'm certain the crew will become most appreciative of your inclusion to our company."

Rising from her own bow, the tiny Japanese woman said, "The Captain is too kind . . . and I look forwards to getting acquainted with my workspace and quarters." She was clad in civilian attire, and carried a massive satchel by a strap over her left shoulder.

Ridley indicated her with a nod. "Allow me to introduce our new ship's morale officer, Miss Nimi Nakadai. She'll also be taking on duties as our ship's cook in Ten Forward." He indicated the rest in turn to the new arrivals. "These are Commander Lethbridge-Stuart, my XO, Chief McCaffrey from Engineering and Ensign Piccoli, who . . . ah, is our Lead Helmsman." He said this last part with a chuckle, as Piccoli hadn't removed his gaze from the shuttle craft behind them.

"I could guess that much, Captain," Paris said with a grin. She stepped over and tapped Piccoli on the shoulder, getting his attention. "In case you're wondering, Ensign, it is standard protocol for all ship's qualified pilots to know how to handle her. I look fowards to taking you out with her on our shake-down flights."

"Really? I ah, I mean . . . Yes, Ma'am?"

"Provided I get to my main duty station first? Get settled in." Paris turned back to the Captain. "I do want to get an updated sit-rep, since the last report I read had some 'concerns' raised?"

Ridley nodded. "Chief McCaffrey will escort you to Engineering, Lieutenant. Once you get a general view of things, I expect you to report to me . . . say at 1800-hours?"

Paris nodded. "Just let me get my kit, and we can head out right away." She stared at McCaffrey, who came to attention, albeit slowly. "Is that good for you, Chief?"

"Oh, aye, Sir. Ah'm at yer service, of course," McCaffrey said.

Ridley nodded, turning to Stuart. "In that case, Commander, would you be so kind to show Commander Ialandi to Sick Bay? She also has quite a bit to see to as well."

"Yes Sir," Stuart nodded to the tall Deltan, motioning towards the exit. Ialandi nodded to the Captain and the two left the bay without another word.

Ridley glanced at Piccoli, then said, "Ensign, secure the bay then return to the Bridge. I'll be escorting Miss Nakadai to her quarters, then I'll be back on the Con. We'll need to start prepping for systems testing within the hour."

Piccoli cast a last look back at the _Kincaid_ \- which Lt. Paris had just exited with a hovering case, before closing the main hatch - and he nodded. "Aye sir. Thanks for letting me meet the new arrivals, Sir." With that, Piccoli drew himself up smartly and he turned to the console to being closing the bay down.

Nodding to the chief, Paris said to Ridley, "I'll be on my way then, Captain. Again, thanks for the warm welcome, Sir." She stepped past him, towing the case behind her as she said, "Let's go, Chief. We've got a busy night ahead of us."

"Aye, er . . . Ma'am. Ah'm right behind ya." He gave Ridley a nod, before trailing off behind his new superior officer. Not a moment behind them, Piccoli finished up and head out, leaving Ridley alone with their last acquisition.

Before he could say anything, the tiny Japanese woman stepped closer and jabbed a stiff finger into his ribs; making him jump. "Now, that the protocol is out of the way and the new crew mates have been dealt with, Captain . . . perhaps you can give me a proper greeting, hm?"

Ridley laughed, rubbing his side briefly before he bent down to give Nimi a hug. "Sorry, I do have to maintain-."

"A 'level of professionalism' in front of the crew, _neh?_" Nimi returned the hug and then stepped back to eye Ridley from head to toe. "You look rather good in Command-Red, James-_kun_. The years have been pretty good to you, I see."

Ridley grinned. "You haven't changed a bit, have you Nimi-_san?_" He took in her short hair, dark eyes and fair complexion. There were some gray strands in her bobbed coiffure, with a few wrinkles at the corner of her eyes and mouth and some thickening in her waistline and hips. Still, it didn't detract from her overall beauty: of which the younger Russell Ridley had commented on many occassions during their early friendship. Even now, Ridley still felt the impact of Nimi's charms, just enhanced by her advancing years.

"You still have to use my middle name, after all the years we served together?" He offered his arm, and motioned towards the exit.

Taking the offered arm, Nimi chuckled softly as she let him lead her out of the shuttle bay. "Well, to call you Russell was always so . . . familiar seeming back when we first met, and to just call you Mister Ridley was just too formal. You were always a stickler for proper protocol when you were a younger officer, you know." She glanced at him and said, "What ever happened to that young, wet-behind-the-ears Lieutenant I met all those years ago?" Nimi's smile deepened, then she sighed, "I really did miss his fumbling attempts to be so formal and professional."

Ridley returned her smile with a snort. "That 'Lieutenant' had to grow up, Nimi_-san_. He's now captain of his own starship and your commanding officer. Again."

Looking up at him with mock horror on her face, Nimi said, "Oh! So I'm to become your personal maid and cook again? Just as I was on Alpha Station?!"

At that, Ridley stopped them both in the hallway and pointed at her with a growl, "I never asked for you to pick up after me back then. As I recall, it was _your_ idea after you brought one of your meals by, after I'd had an exhausting three-day stint in the command deck there. You never did explain how you got the lock-code to my quarters, back then."

"Ancient family secret, James-_kun_. It's a good thing I did back then," Nimi said with a half-serious/half-joking tone. "You young bachelor officers can hardly handle looking after yourselves. Always work, work work! You could hardly keep your quarters straight!" She poked him in the ribs again, adding, "You couldn't maintain a proper diet, either." She scowled crossly, "Replicator rations! Synth-liquid supplements! Where's the real nutrition in that? All processed chemicals and filler agents. Feh! A crew can't run itself on garbage, even if it is produced under Starfleet regulations!" She gestured emphatically with one hand. "Men and women need REAL food! I just hope that your Department of Acquisitions and Supply have a proper stock set up for me. If I have to butt heads with those stiff-collared idiots, just to make sure I have enough sugar, salt, flour and-." She paused when she heard Ridley begin to laugh deeply. "What do you find so humorous, Captain?"

"Only that after fifteen years apart, you're still trying to 'mother' me and run my command behind my back," Ridley said, grinning. "Some things never do change it seems." He motioned towards a bank of turbo lifts near by. "Seriously, it is good to have you back, Nimi-_san_. When I was being told I would be getting my own ship, I said I must have the best cook in the whole Federation or I won't set out at all."

Nimi smiled and patted his arm. "As it should be, James-_kun_." Together they headed for the turbo lifts, and she added, "After all, if I have to make my famous ramen dish for any captain in Starfleet, it might as well be for you."

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# # # #

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**In Main Engineering, NCC-71969; Spacedock Delta...**

"As you can see, Lieutenant," Grayson said, indicating the data stream on the console in front of them. "We've managed to put 'er to rights as much as we could." Despite his sore nerves over having to be junior to her, Grayson wasn't going to let himself get ground down over it. He had great pride in his work, and he hoped all the back-breaking, slogging work he'd put into the Engineering space would be recognized by his new superior.

Miral Paris didn't look up from the screen, but she nodded in understanding as she swept her own dark eyes over the system's data. "It does look good for now. However, your report here says you were having some problems from the first day you fired up the warp core, am I right?"

"Well, the core's been operatin' within a two-point-one percent of Regulation Variances, but we had a significant lose of power within' th' first week we fired 'er up. Ay' figured it had to be th' hardware bein' so new; what wi' all th' pull from ship's systems." Grayson grimaced and added glumly, "Though, th' construction crews an' our ship's compliment did what we could. We were fortunate to have enough power from the backup generators to keep things runnin', while the core was taken offline. I recommended that, so we could continue our work while we sort out th' main power troubles." He nodded towards one section of data. "The real hitch has been some of this equipment. As I stated in m'report it . . . well, it doesn't fit what with most standard warp drive systems I've seen before."

Miral nodded, "That equipment is part of the reason why I've been assigned to this ship. It's part of a new propulsion system, which I'll be briefing the command staff on its particulars," she said with a grin. "When I've finished working out your power problems."

"Ah, well . . . you have a solution, Ma'am?" Grayson asked.

"I have some new programs and data from Starfleet Engineering. A few things cooked up by the boffins in the primary research labs back on Earth." She pressed a switch and killed the display. "Some of it should be the solution to the power troubles here." She turned and eyed the compartment critically. "Speaking of power, by the way . . . ." She stepped over to where she'd left her case, and opened it to remove a carry-all and a tool-kit hardcase. "Where's the most readily accessed OD/N conduit here? I'm used to the ones back in the engine room on my previous command. Still don't know the full quirks of this class. Yet."

Grayson frowned, then nodded to a nearby wall at the Chief Engineer's station. "Over there, Ma'am. Behind Panel G-3."

Miral looked to where he indicated, and nodded. "Good." She moved over and put the carry-all on a chair, before placing the hardcase on the station's worktop. She removed a phase cutter and release clamp from the hardcase, before turning to eye the panel he'd just identified. "Think a standard cutter and a Type-2 socket will do the trick." She stepped up to the panel, used the clamp to remove it and peered inside.

Grayson's expression deepened. "Ah, Ma'am?" He watched as she hummed to herself - clearly making note of the power feeds in the open space before her - before she dropped the cutter and removed a multi-tool from her kit.

"Now, let me see." She glanced up and down the length of the circuits and components inside. "There's got to be . . . a-ha." Raising the multi-tool, she aimed it at an exposed relay and flicked it on.

Grayson stepped up close behind her, his eyes following as she used the multi-tool to alter a portion of the relay's circuits; forming a conductive socket into the pathway. "Ah, Lieutenant . . . if Aye could be so bold t'ask-?"

"A moment, Chief." Miral withdrew the multi-tool, then lifted the cover panel and held it up to the opening as she made some eye-ball calculations in her head. "With this power relay . . . right here," she flicked the tool closed, then retrieved the phase cutter and made a hole in the panel.

"Er, Ma'am? Isn't it a bit too soon t'be makin' minor modifications to th' space?" Grayson kept his ire in check, but he couldn't help himself from commenting. "I mean, you only just got here-!"

"Consider this a necessary addition, Chief." She dropped the cutter again, and held up the panel to the opening to check the alignment with the conductive socket before she nodded and pressed the panel home, locking it in place. She eyeballed the opening again, and nodded. "Not exactly perfect, but it should suffice until we can fabricate a new panel with a sealed aperture for the socket." Turning away, she reached into her carry-all to remove what appeared - at least to Grayson's eyes - to be some sort of miniature recharging creche, with a receptacle socket built into its armature. She aligned the armature and slotted its power coupling into the aperture. When it slid home with a _clik!_, the hum of a successful power connection filled the air.

Miral sighed with satisfaction, then she reached into a side pocket on her carry-all and removed a small, shield-shaped device. "Now, let's get you locked in, and . . . ?" She pressed the object into the receptacle, and the humming sound dropped to a quiet, level droning sound. She glanced at a tiny readout on the armature. "Good. Proper power levels achieved."

Grayson stared at the odd assembly and added, "Just what exactly . . . er, is this thingagummy? Ma'am?"

"Just something I brought with me from my last command, Chief." Stepping back, Miral reached out and tapped a key on the side of the armature. "Command: activate A.E.H., please."

A computer's compliance tone chimed, then a spectral-looking image of a short, red-haired woman in grey Starfleet workman's togs appeared out of thin air immediately next to Grayson's right. Grayson jumped back a pace, eying the image as it stood there; arms behind her back, ram-rod straight in stature. "Motherha'mercy!" He started to protest, when the image blinked, flickered then became more resolute in seconds.

"Please be statin' th' nature o' the Engineerin' Emergency," the image said, staring straight ahead.

Miral grinned and said, "No emergency. I need you to run level one diagnostics on your program."

The image blinked. "Diagnostic runnin' . . . stand bye." After a few moments, another compliance tone chimed. "All systems runnin' within' set parameters." She turned and glanced at Miral, a grin of her own spreading across her plump cheeks. "G'day, Lieutenant Paris. What service canna Aye render fer ya?"

Grayson stared in shock at the image. "What in th' name o' Cuchulain's Hound is THAT?"

Before Miral could respond, the hologram snapped her head around, a scowl filling her face as she barked at him. "Ay'll learn ye tae speak outta turn, ya wog!" The distinctive Scottish brogue made her seem larger than her short stature actually was. "Ah'm Ensign Priscilla. Assistant Engineerin' Hologram. Assigned tae Lt. Miral Paris an' tae th' ship she's servin', an' yer gonna either show some respect, or Ay'll have ya cleanin' th' jeffries tubes fer th' whole bay before chow-time!"

Trying not to laugh at Grayson's consternation, Miral said, "Chief, Priss is my photonic assistant. As I figured this new ship could use all the help she can get, I recommended to Starfleet Engineering that they permit her to come along." She cleared her throat, getting Priss' attention. "Priss, this . . . person you're threatening with a fate worse than death is Chief Grayson McCaffrey. The, ah . . . former lead engineer, before I arrived. He'll be assisting us in running this ships engineering compliment."

There was a pause, as Priss looked Grayson over like something she'd stepped in. "Ah, weel. That 'splains a lot, then. So be it." There was another chime before Priss said, "CPO McCaffrey is logged in'tae my data bank, as 2nd assistant Engineer."

At that, Grayson shook himself and practically screeched. "What!? Now, look here ya over-wrought light bulb! I'm well an' good t'be taken orders from th' Lieutenant, 'cause th' Regs say so." He pointed a finger at the hologram and snarled. "But I'll be stewed in m'own sauce if I'll be ordered around by th' likes o' you!"

Miral crossed her arms, losing her good humor as she glared at Grayson. "Chief, you need to understand one, clear point about Priss. She holds a full commission from Starfleet as an active Ensign," Miral explained. "Which means, she outranks you."

At that, Grayson blanched.

"So, understand that you'll not only be taking orders from me, but when the situation requires it - and I'm certain there will be several times in the near-future when that is the case - you'll be taking orders from her, too."

Priss leveled her eyes on Grayson, and smirked. "Trust me, bye. Th' Lieutenants a wee might mair forgivin' than Ay'll be. So yer better off gettin' wi' th' program, as it were."

Miral added firmly, "Do you understand, Chief?"

Grayson stared back and forth between the two women - both organic and photonic - before he got a grip on himself and nodded meekly. "Aye, Ma'am . . . er, Ma'ams. I understand."

"Guid!" Priss turned and clapped her hands together. "Weel, now . . . my system's finalized the up-link tae this ships main systems." She paused, then tilted her head. "Ahhh, a wee problem wi' th' power demands, eh?" She faced Miral and asked, "Shall we get tae work, Ma'am? Ah'm eager tae stretch m'legs a bit."

Miral nodded. "I'll have to make a quick compile of the system logs to go over with the ship's Captain. Priss, take Chief McCaffrey and start looking over the main power bus. If we're going to make sure this ship won't be dropping out on us, that's the best place to start." She took a seat at the primary console, and nodded to them both. "You have your orders, you two."

"Right, Ma'am." Priss turned and gave Grayson's arm a tug. "C'mon, bye. We've got some conduits t'crawl 'round in."

Grayson groaned inwardly, but he dutifully followed his new photonic superior. "Aye, Ma'am. Ay'm right with ye." Following the plump figure to one of the access ladders leading to the upper spaces, he muttered softly, "Lord, give me strength to survive the next year or two. Aye beg ye?"

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End file.
